


Favor

by qualapec



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Canon Queer Character, Canon Trans Character, Gift Exchange, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Post-Jack the Ripper DLC, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:44:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5540516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qualapec/pseuds/qualapec
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Great Wye Gift Exchange 2015. “Jacob gives Ned a gift in the summer of 1888. That winter, Ned returns the favor.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Favor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fakeandroid (queertitan)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/queertitan/gifts).



> This was written for the Wye Secret Santa (@wyesecretsanta) on Tumblr, for co-shipper and friend fakeandroid.
> 
> Anyway, you're awesome and this ship is awesome, and I hope you're having a great day <3

_Summer, 1888_

Ned’s standing on a dock, overlooking a new shipment, when he catches sight of Jacob walking towards him. None of Ned’s lookouts saw him coming, so Ned knows his meeting is more than just a social call. Still, he smiles when he sees Jacob. Not for the first time, he’s struck by how Jacob has grown leaner, more lethal, matured. Ned doesn’t see him as often as he used to, but he’s comforted by this Jacob and the history they share. His eyes are the same hazel, and his hair has darkened, yet to show the first signs of gray mixed with russet. As he nears, Ned tips his hat, and Jacob smiles, friendly and familiar. He’s calmer than the man Ned met years ago, but then again so is he.

While the years have been kind to him, today Jacob looks tired, like he hasn’t slept: Ned’s seeing new lines that can’t just be from age. “Jacob,” he greets him with a slight incline to his head. “Good to see you.”

“Ned.” Jacob _sounds_ tired too. “You seem in good health.”

Ned laughs, and he can hear the slightest trace of sand in his own voice. “Was that in question?”

He knows he’s made a mistake, because Jacob goes pale, and reflexively looks behind him. This is Ned’s first cue that something is different. Jacob is many things, but he’s never been one for paranoia. “You’d be surprised by the sickness going around.”

Ned’s alarmed, and decides to change the subject. They’ve known each other a very long time; they’ve always only told each other what they need to know, worked hard not to paint a target on anyone’s back but their own. This hasn’t always worked. Ned can see that this time, Jacob isn’t just withholding information for caution; he’s withholding it because of fear.

“Whatever it is,” Ned replies, carefully, “make sure you don’t go catching it.”

Shrugging, Jacob squares his shoulders, and stands at Ned’s side, watching the sun set on the Thames. Ned steals a glimpse and the shadow in Jacob’s eyes alarms him again. Jacob’s always driven through the world with easy confidence, seemed motivated by the risks of his life rather than defeated by them. Now, he looks like he’s been expecting a blade in the night; he has the look of someone who doesn’t know which sunset will be his last anymore.

Ned doesn’t want to think about what the scariest man he knows thinks is scary. He takes the information, reaffirms his grip on the cane-sword the twins gifted to him many years ago. He’s never needed to use it.

“Come on, Jacob,” Ned says, more quietly. “I’ve known you a long time. This isn’t a social call.”

Jacob grins, and his smile is tired too, like he’s finally smiled too often and been burned too much, but still tries. “I have a present for you.”

He reaches into a deep pocket, and pulls out a brown envelope. Ned’s name is written in simple, graceful script on the front. He shoots Jacob a lopsided look, and takes it. “A confession of true love? You really shouldn’t have.”

“Of a sort,” Jacob says, as Ned carefully opens the flap and pulls out two glossy strips of paper. “Those tickets will take you anywhere in Europe.”

Ned’s stunned, doesn’t know what to think, and is half tempted to shove them back at Jacob, call him on the joke, until he sees the look in Jacob’s eyes. He knows instantly that this is not a threat, that this isn’t a vain gift. Jacob is begging him to accept. Ned chuckles. “I have nowhere else in Europe that I need to be right now, Jacob.”

“Yes you do,” Jacob says, and Ned can hear a crackle, like Jacob’s been crying easily lately. “Ned, _please_ listen to me. You need to be _anywhere_ else for the next few months. Do you understand?”

Ned’s startled by the seriousness in Jacob’s voice, but he also bristles at the insistence. He’s spent twenty years making a life for himself in London, the same way Jacob has, and his first reaction is a deep and abiding offense at the idea that he can’t handle whatever’s coming. “For Heaven’s sake. When I arrived in London, I never intended to leave. I don’t care if this is,“ he leans in, drops his voice, “ _Assassin_ business. I’m staying.”

“Ned.” Jacob steps closer, and reaches out to Ned’s arm. “Something terrible is about to happen. Anyone who knows me, anyone of my friends and allies… you’re all in danger. When it does happen, I need to be his only target.”

Ned pulls his arm out of Jacob’s hand. “Fuck you, Frye. We—you were here when we all built this city back up. We’ve been through so much and you’re asking me to throw it all away?”

“That’s _not_ what I’m asking.” Jacob steps in front of him, blocking his view of the Thames. “Just for a little while.”

“Damn it. Who will target me?”

“ _Might._ Anyone I care about is in danger.”

Ned barely pauses at the casual admission that Jacob cares about him. “I’m not going to drop my whole life for a phantom.”

“I know I wasn’t a good lover,” Jacob says, suddenly. “To you or others. I wasn’t a good father or husband or ex-husband or brother, to so many people. I’m not even a good mentor. But I’ve tried, if nothing else, to be a good friend.”

Ned pauses at that, because Jacob’s never talked about his ex-wife before. All Ned knows about Jacob’s divorce was that it meant Jacob came to him for a few long nights of drinking, a little friendly sex, and Jacob never mentioning the woman he married again.

“Jesus Christ,” Ned says, eloquently. “You are scared shitless.”

If Jacob’s pride s stung, he doesn’t show it. “Ned, if anything happens to me—“

Ned raises his hand and waves the idea away. “You’ll be fine.”

“If I’m not, you cannot come back to London. Find George in Crawley, he’ll help you rebuild and relocate wherever you need to, but London won’t be safe anymore.”

“I have my own hired security, Jacob.”

“Not from this.” Jacob looks down to the tickets in Ned’s hand. “Please just consider it.”

“I’ll keep them,” Ned says. “I don’t plan on leaving.”

Jacob shakes his head.

Ned fidgets with the handle of his cane. “If you’re so scared, then come with me.”

For a second, Jacob looks like he’s considering it. Then he laughs.

“Let me guess,” Ned says, “you _can’t_.”

“That’s about the size of it.” He sobers. “A lot of people would die if I did that. It’s not an option.”

“You know, would you believe if I said that I always liked that about you?” Even if he’s never understood it. “Even when you were acting the gangster, you still cared so much about people. Really counters my own misanthropy.”

Jacob grins. “And you’ve always been good at looking after yourself. I’ve almost never needed to worry about you.” He seems distant again. “This is unlike anything either of us have ever seen.”

Jacob reaches out to touch Ned’s hand, and Ned gently takes it back. They aren’t a couple anymore, haven’t been that again for some time, but they’ve stayed friends and Ned keeps forgetting how much he loves Jacob’s hands. Jacob gives his fingers a light squeeze. Ned’s scared at how much it feels like a goodbye. “An Assassin I trained has lost his mind and gone rogue. He will try to kill me and I’m afraid he’ll succeed.”

“I love you, too,” Ned’s voice is dry, and he pulls his hand away. “God damn it.”

“Now you understand what’s at stake,” Jacob says. “Will you leave?”

Ned stands there, angrily taps his cane on the dock planks under his feet, mentally tracing out the keys of a piano to calm himself down. “No promises.”

Jacob scowls and runs his hands through his shorter hair, using up the mousse a little. “You’ve become such an insufferable codger, Wynert.” He sighs, and his face softens. “I love it.”

“At least I’m not doing the same things I was doing when I was twenty.” He’s making different mistakes instead of the same ones, but he knows that cuts too deep, so he doesn’t say it. “Really, I’m flattered, but I will be fine.” He wants to tell Jacob that he’s worried about him, that this sounds bad, but he can’t find the right words. “Give him Hell,” he says, instead, and Jacob smiles.

“Just, promise me you’ll do what you’ve always done.”

Ned raises an eyebrow at that. “Oh? And that is?”

Jacob has that sad look again. “Look out for yourself. Live well.”

As Jacob leaves, he kisses Ned on the side of the mouth, and Ned is reminded how much softer Jacob’s kisses have become. He’s calmer, better-rounded. They’ve watched each other change so much.

As Jacob walks away, Ned tries to fight the feeling that he’s seeing him for the last time.

 

_Winter, 1889_

Jacob’s getting stronger, but he still spends most of the day sleeping. On Ned’s shifts, he ends up dozing off in his chair sometimes, within easy reach if Jacob needs him, but he catches rest when he can. He finds people to manage his finances and before he knows it, he’s spending more and more time at Jacob’s bedside.

Moonlight is coming in through the window, and Ned wakes to the sound of Jacob stirring in his bed, trying to turn over onto his left side—the one horribly damaged during his abduction. Ned pretends to still be asleep, watching Jacob through barely open eyes. At first, he thinks Jacob’s having a nightmare, until he catches the movement of Jacob’s hand under the sheets, headed for his waist. He curses when he tries to grip, because it’s hard with two splinted fingers. Ned sighs.

“Jacob,” Ned says, “you’re not alone.”

Jacob collapses back onto his back and curses again. His voice is still sore. “I know. Sorry. Thought you were asleep.”

Ned shakes his head. “I mean, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He pulls his glasses down, and watches Jacob. “A little… frustrated?”

“Yes.” Jacob isn’t snapping at Ned, so much as he’s frustrated with his own recovery. Jacob, embarrassed, drops his shoulders back to the bed. He’s gotten stronger since Ned first started helping Evie take care of him, but even sitting up is still a strain. “Damn it. I can’t even jerk off.”

Ned’s watching him carefully, and checks out the door to Jacob’s room. Evie said she probably wouldn’t be back until early morning. “I, ah, could help you with that.”

Jacob watches him incredulously with his remaining eye, then glances at the door himself. “When will Evie…?”

“Not until later,” Ned answers quickly, and slides his chair up to Jacob’s bedside. It makes a screeching noise on the floor and they both cringe. Ned gently pulls the layers of covers Evie has Jacob bundled up in back, and lifts up the band of the loose pants Jacob’s been sleeping in, and instantly understands Jacob’s dilemma. He’s half-hard. If he was younger, it probably would have been easier. Since he’s gotten older, a little grinding and a good imagination won’t do the trick anymore. He needs the sensation of touch, a warm body in the room with him. Ned relates, and starts out gently, and second guesses whether this is the right thing to do or not. “Just let me know if this is too much. Your sister might kill me if your heart gives out, and I really don’t want to be the one to explain this to her.”

“I’ll be _fine_.” Jacob practically growls it. “Just touch me.”

Ned raises an eyebrow and starts stroking.

Jacob’s response is instant. He starts with long, even breaths, and with each touch, Jacob’s breaths halve, before steadying out once more. There’s a little of his voice, which is still sore, that makes its way through, alternating between high-pitched keens and noises that are so deep and strained that they sound more like coughs. Ned watches Jacob lick his own chapped lips as his skin gets warmer, as he starts to rise in Ned’s palm. He arcs his hips upwards, and Ned pulls away.

Jacob shoots him an angry look, and Ned reaches for a cigarette. He knows the old Jacob used to like that game. He’s not sure any more, but this is a practical issue. “Be careful with your leg, Jacob.”

“Ned.” Jacob’s almost begging, and five years ago, this would have been par for the course of a night together. Now Ned’s trying not to think about how he wants to do nothing more than reach down and kiss Jacob, grind down on him, how grateful he is that Jacob is even alive, or enough of the man he used to love (fuck, he used to love Jacob, maybe he still does), that he can even fantasize about touching him again.

 _I’m lucky I didn’t need to go to his funeral_ , Ned thinks. _We’re both lucky the Ripper didn’t kill me when I was too proud or stupid to leave this ashy city._

He takes a drag on his cigarette, and successfully avoids thinking about the real reason he didn’t leave.

Jacob’s fingers, the ones that aren’t splinted, are gripping the sheets, and Ned watches his tendons strain in the light from the candles and the moon. Jacob’s bruised throat is bending slightly, and Ned is watching his Adam’s apple shift as he takes deep breaths, as he pauses to swallow and his eyes roll back into his head a little. Ned exhales, and sends a plume of smoke up into the air, the lit tip of his cig a glimmer in the dark, bouncing off any glass or metal. He watches as it reflects, flickers with the candles, and Jacob pants harder, tries to tilt his hips upwards again.

“Watch it,” Ned cautions.

“I’m fine.” Jacob is insistent. “Just… harder.”

Ned rolls his eyes. “I don’t remember you giving me directions, Frye.”

Jacob looks up at him. “Different time. Don’t mess around, Wynert.”

Ned shrugs his shoulders, and squeezes, drags his hand down, lets his fingers trail as Jacob cries out. How long has it been for him? Ned can’t help but wonder. They’re at the age where they’ve stopped counting, but Jacob is so hungry for it, Ned knows it won’t be long. He hasn’t even had the time to get bored yet, and drags his thumb onto the tip of Jacob’s cock. Jacob moves as much as he can, his voice crying out, still a little raspy.

Ned lowers his hand, fondles Jacob’s balls, but doesn’t squeeze. Instead, he slides his fingers back up to the tip, a single pinpoint of pleasure that has Jacob squeezing his eyes shut. He’s straining his leg, and Ned knows he should pull back but he knows the sooner he finishes this, the sooner Jacob can go back to resting. Ned leans in, focused, and wishes he’d pulled back the sleeve of his shirt before attempting this. He still pauses, runs his fingers along the softest inner part of Jacob’s thigh before carrying on, and he gets a willing sigh in response before grabbing Jacob’s cock once more.

Unlike the history of their relationship(s), it’s all business from here on out. Ned pumps Jacob’s cock and tries not to get turned on by how Jacob is practically writhing at his touch. Jacob’s always been expressive, has always needed to move. Intercourse is like that for him; he needs to touch, grab, take control, and shout. He can’t do that right now, and he’s vibrating with the necessity of it. His eye dilates, and he exhales, coming all over Ned’s hand as he breathes out.

Jacob’s breaths are long and steady after that, his remaining eye half-lidded and happy. Ned sees the first smile he’s seen on Jacob in months.

He’s glad, and as soon as Jacob’s better, Ned swears he’ll demand the favor returned. Slowly, he rises, pulls of his glove, and walks towards the kitchen and the running water there. The glove is probably shot, but he doesn’t mind; he could afford a thousand just like it. He pulls it off at the wrist with his free hand, folding it inside out, and drops it into the waste bin with the spent medical supplies.

When he returns to the bedroom, Jacob’s on the verge of sleep.

Ned smiles. He’s glad there’s something he can do for Jacob that no one else can. Jacob’s watching him as he comes back in. “Don’t you need…?”

Ned grins. “I’m not thirty anymore. Anything I did was out of the goodness of my own heart. This time.”

“Well,” Jacob manages, and without sounding even somewhat sarcastic, he says, “I believe that truly.”

Then, in a move Ned is now familiar with, he watches Jacob shut his eye and lean back into bed, his head resting gently in the groove he’s worked into the pillow, the only thing that’s his. Ned feels lonely when Jacob slips off, although it’s more than understandable—it was even the point. He finishes his cigarette and quietly extinguishes it in an ashtray. He steadies his own breath. He’d wanted to think he was past these feelings. He stands behind the chair, gripping the back, and takes three more deep breathes. They’re both alive. There will be time for more. He sways, is so happy he could do that for Jacob again. Jacob is different, but Ned isn’t the same person he was when he thought Jacob was lost to him forever, either. The last month has changed both of them.

Ned leans down to kiss Jacob, who is now soundly asleep. His lips are older, softer, but Ned prefers them. He even takes Jacob’s hand in his and whispers that confession in his ear.

 

 

THE END


End file.
